


May, 15th. 1999, Marshall, Minnesota. 14:42:04

by ArchTroop



Series: EasyRush [9]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: M/M, OFC - Freeform, Smoking, Weecest, Wincest - Freeform, contradictory yet plausible behavior, easyrush, kissing in the parking lot, somewhat cruel, somewhat whimsy, this whole thing is a smut-less-vanilla wincest anthology, well there is a kiss
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-01
Updated: 2016-10-01
Packaged: 2018-08-18 23:29:06
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,494
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8179850
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ArchTroop/pseuds/ArchTroop
Summary: Dean waits for Sam after school. A small show goes down, with only one spectator.





	

Dean leaned against the warm metal of the Impala, and lit a cigarette, waiting.

Sam was making his way through a mass of teenagers, across the school’s front yard and parking lot, his backpack slinging on one shoulder (not because he was too lazy to put it on both of his shoulders, but because the other strap got ripped off last week).   
He was clearly unhappy about something and overall sulky. _What’s new._

“Hey there.” Said Dean, carefully resting his right hand aside and giving a reflexive shake to the cigarette’s burning tip.  
“Hey.” Answered Sam, with zero enthusiasm. He approached his brother, closing the distance between them. _Too close_.  
Dean stared, raising an eyebrow.  
What are you scheming?  
Then, locking his gaze with Dean’s, he sneakily reached for his occupied hand.

…Which Dean clocked immediately.  
“Hey! Common, get your own! I paid for those!” Dean said in a petulant drawl, raising his hand over his head, saving his smoke from the impending thievery.  
But Sam was smarter than that: the moment the opportunity presented - he sneaked his hands into the depths of Dean’s jacket - its innards now freely reachable - rummaging them for the pack.

Dean’s breath hitched, as he froze at the sudden breach of his minimal, yet stubbornly maintained, personal space.  
_Well, none of it to claim as such now._

Sam, calm and calculated, pulled out the pack of cigarettes from within one of Dean’s numerous pockets, then - with no questions asked and nothing on his face to give away any emotion - he reached over to the back pocket of Dean’s jeans and pulled out his zippo.   
_Yup, none. At all._

Casually leaning beside his stunned, mildly annoyed, big brother, he _got his own_ and lit it, inhaling deep and casual.   
“Paid with what. A kiss, a favor or something more.” He said, bitter.

“You done?” Dean glared at him, gritting his teeth, as he relaxed his stiffened hand and shrugged himself into a more natural position.  
Reconciling with the facts of life, Dean snatched his pack and lighter from Sam. Realizing that his smoke got lost in the moment and now was ending its pitiful life span at the Impala’s tire, he lit another. _What a waste._  
“You are the bitchiest bitch ever. And no, no special favors for smokes, for christ’s sake, I paid with _cash._ Honest to god actual money, paper and all. Believe it or not little brother, I have some mad pool skills. Besides. What crawled up your ass? Hmmm?” Dean asked, his eyes skimming over the scattered teens at the parking lot, chattering in small groups, pointing at each other. He frowned. “And…umm, Sam…? what’s going on…? Why all the commotion…?”  
  
Sam sighed. Inhaled. Growled. “A school dance. Next week.”

“Oh.” Was all Dean could produce. He bit on his lower lip. Took a drag. “What’s the occasion..?”  
“A local shit tradition.” Answered Sam, “Something about the town celebrating its origins or something. Basically the final vanquish of native americans disguising itself in white stars and red stripes.“  
“Doesn’t sound like your cup o’ joe….” Pushed Dean.  
“It’s not. Alice is.” Grumbled Sam, staring at his feet, his bangs obscuring his face. Dean snickered.  
“Who the fuck is Alice.” He bumped shoulders with Sam for emphasis.  
Sam puffed a little cloud of smoke, swallowed and pointed with the scalding tip of the cigarette at the crowd.   
As if on mark, one of the girls turned around and gave them a long stare.

Alice was a tall, round where it counts, fair haired beauty.  
Clearly, the local queen of high-school and probably the best cheerleader on her team (judging by her uniform - a short top that showed firm muscle, and an even shorter skirt that showcased an even firmer thighs), Alice was laughing and waving her hands around animatedly, while her audience of worshipers crowded around her, nodding and participating in every joke and question she threw at them.   
As she looked them both over, her eyes rested on Dean, and she gave him a little smile, looking at him  _undressing me with her eyes knowing what she wants putting her hands on her waist just so changing her posture just a bit making herself just that much more inviting she knows what she is doing she knows how to get it she knows she will get it._  
Well hello Alice.  
You and your fuckin’ mirrors.

“Great. Now she is checking _you_ out. This is my life. Forever.” Sighed Sam, defeated and mournful. 

Dean bit the inside of his cheek.  
“I’ma, uh, surprised, Sammy. I thought you were all about the nerdy, smarty-pants ones. Not the popular-blond-cheerleader-type ones. Don’t get me wrong or anything… just observing here… but she seems kinda…” Dean squinted, looking for the right words in his mind.  
“ - out of my league?” Finished Sam Dean’s presumable line of thought.  
“ - slutty. Like - you know, easy. I’m just surprised you would be interested in her. ‘S all.” Dean said and shrugged.  
He threw down his cigarette butt and crashed it under his boot mindlessly, staring at _Alice._

_…easy._

“Then you are a total idiot, cause you of all people should know by now that my biggest crush ever is a huge, easy, slut.” Hissed Sam, dismissively throwing away his cigarette, still lit and half finished.

Dean felt like the occasional victim of the infamous bucket-of-ice-water-over-the-door-frame prank.  
He flinched.  
Well shit.  
Even worse, it was a trap he made with his own two bare hands, and then walked right into it.   
Hecleared his throat.   
_Not what I was going for… damn._  
  
“So… what’s the deal? Don’t tell me you tried to invite her or somethin’…” He asked, barely managing to change the subject, and going for the occasional insult to break the ice- _water-bucket_ , “By all the rules of high society, I mean. Sorry, brother, but you do know you had no chance, right?”   
“Thanks, Dean. Sure. You just made me feel that much more of a gullible peasant.” Sam grimaced and crossed his arms.  
“If it helps any… dad called, we are leaving tonight… so no harm no fault, right?” Offered Dean.  
“…nope. Doesn’t help.” Dismissed Sam Dean’s truly earnest effort.  
“That bad, huh.” Dean winced sympathetically.  
“That bad. Even worse.” Sam’s sulkiness was slowly turning into an early stage of fury. “I kinda. I asked her out, and the hell was I thinking..”- _you wanted to be normal_ \- “and, obviously, she said ‘no’.”  
Dean nodded in silent understanding, listening carefully, still eyeing the crowd that was slowly diffusing into his peripheral vision.  
Sam continued his rant. “But noooo… more then that. She made it clear, very clear to everyone around us, that she  _didn’t care for a trailer-park skinny white trash.”_ Dean raised his eyebrows in slight confusion and justified irritation.  
“I actually do wanna skip town this time,” Added Sam, “first time I’m glad we don’t live in one place. That bad.” he finished, hissing. 

Dean cleared his throat. “Well that was unnecessarily mean of her.”  
”No kidding.” Agreed Sam, shifting around, as if trying to occupy the least space possible.  
”Well, we got no trailer, and we are renting a place this time around, so she can take that back and stick it all up her tiny, rich-bitch, lily-white ass. About you being skinny, though… she has a point…” Added Dean with a fond smile.   
”Actually, we live in a car.” Barked Sam in response, his voice drenched with cynicism. _Well, true.  
_

Dean sighed and looked at Alice, studying her. She was clearly aware of him, and was acting accordingly - making herself look casual in the eyes of her posse of admiring teens, yet giving all the signs of _want want want_ in Dean’s direction. Dean sported a little crooked smile.   
”Yet she seems to like the, uh, somewhat maturer version of the same trailer-park white trash, huh.” He pointed out, mildly distracted.  
”It’s your curse. Or mine. Depends on the occasion.” Muttered Sam, now studying his nails with the attention level of an anthropologist. Dean ignored him.  
Instead, he crossed his arms, and gave out a small, mischievous laugh.  
“You know… we could.. uhhh. Scar her for life. Get some revenge.“  
Sam looked at his big brother in disbelief.   
“Uhh, no I don’t wanna _hurt her,_ if that’s what you mean. I’m not a maniac, I am a rational person - “ Sam began objecting, but was interrupted.  
“ - No! Common, not what I meant! Jesus!.” Dean scratched his nose.  
“Sammy. You trust me?” He asked, all serious, his eyes on Alice.  
Sam blinked at him, confused.  
Then, not waiting, Dean slowly moved a hand across Sam’s shoulder and tentatively placed it around his neck and squeezed. Not too harsh, not too gentle. A question.  
Sam shivered, his cheeks turning a slight shade of pink.  
He eased into the touch, saying nothing. An answer.

Alice was now standing there completely alone, her loyalists yelling their goodbyes. Very few people were still around and were minding their own business.  
  
_She thinks she is at the top of her game, can get anyone, reject anyone. She thinks she has it all figured out. She thinks she is a grownup queen of hearts._

_It will be like crashing a fun-house of mirrors.  
_

“You know…” Dean whispered into Sam’s ear, “what they… say about white trash. All kinds of shit. Some true. Some not. Some is none of their fuckin’ business.”  
“uhh - ” Was the almost inaudible answer. Sam’s cheeks were getting hotter by the second.  
“…She won’t see it coming…” Added Dean, and turned his face for a kiss.

And Sam was there, meeting him halfway, stiff and unsure, with his eyes closed and lashes faltering, his backpack sliding down and hitting the asphalt with a distant thump, crushing beneath it two half smoked cigarettes.  
Dean went on to pry Sam’s lips open, but Sam’s face was practically petrified.

_That. Won’t do._

He closed a hand over Sam’s nape and separated from him, taking a breath, their foreheads touching, noses brushing.  
“…are you gonna go with it or you gonna stand there like a planted bamboo stick…?” He murmured, his little smile crooked and taunting.  
Sam pursed his lips and opened his eyes, looking directly at Dean, assessing.  
“…are you counting on her knowing that we are brothers, or just the fact that we are both guys…?” he mused out loud, squinting.  
“…mmmm… both?” Said Dean, raising an eyebrow.  
“ - well congratulations you got both - “ said Sam in a hitched gasp and pulled Dean in by the collar of his jacket.

_Well how about now dear Alice, is that wonderland enough for you…_

Dean’s hand made its way into Sam’s hair, indulging in the hot, wet feeling in a somewhat detached, distant way. He felt Sam having it all, his mouth taking it all, his body decisively ignoring their surroundings.  
Dean was very aware of Alice’s eyes on them, feeling _the wonder the horror the question the disbelief._  
He carefully maneuvered them around, nudging Sam’s body, and gave her a long, piercing look, over Sam’s shoulder and the almost empty parking lot.   
Nobody was minding them and the black car in the corner. Nobody cared.  
Just Alice.  
And she was staring.  
Eyes wide open, her mouth slightly ajar, her expression a mix of emotions, her right hand clutching the middle of her mini-skirt, her thighs now squeezing to each other, her other hand reaching to her mouth…

Dean smiled into the now very long-lasting kiss and gently detached himself, breathing in, his body instinctively aching at the loss of warmth.  
Sam’s eyes were still closed, his entire body trembling. He was taking in much needed air, concentrating on maintaining his composure. His fists were deadly set on Dean’s collar.  
“Hey. Listen.. go sit in the car. You hear…?” Whispered Dean, his palms softly covering Sam’s white-knuckled fists, his eyes still on the girl.  
Sam nervously hummed in response and released his grip, silently picking up his backpack and making his way around to the passenger seat, his face hidden under his bangs. Dean watched him walk, his expression hardening.  
He turned over and stepped a few steps towards the girl in the middle of the parking lot and looked up at her, his expression infused with a dosage of disdain.

_…you… me…_

_Alice._  
One could swear that, if not for the wind playing with her hair, she was a very nice example for the subject of movement in sculpting.  
Dean smiled internally.

He opened his eyes and mouth, mimicking her, mocking her.  
Then, he reached with the front of his hand to his face, observing her eyes following him,  _mesmerized_ , and, after making sure he was getting her full attention, he mouthed, “Mine”.

He watched her face as it hit her - the understanding, the realization.  
As her breathing became more and more uneven, he gave his own chin two slight hits, closing it, again, watching her _registering, comprehending_ \- closing her own mouth in response, gulping, breaking her stare - _eyes everywhere looking for an escape -_

Dean huffed and smirked. More to himself then anybody.  
Completing his theatricals, and pleased with the outcome, he turned around, feeling zeroremorsefor leaving this little lost soul all alone and confused in the school’s parking lot.  
Not even a shred of pity.  
  
Alice watched him go, scared and curious.  
_We’ll probably never meet again, Alice, but you’ll never forget us. And it will eat you alive, you and your pretentiousness. You lily-white trash._

The asphalt under Dean’s feet felt uneven, melted. He could mentally see his footprints on the blackened, sticky gravel as he made each step. The few cars around him got smudged into one long fence of desaturated colors, the column of salt behind him slowly breathing in life again, choking on it, welcoming it.  
  
_\- why she gets to be revived when I am drowning just this once I wanna be this not the hero not the villain just a selfish ghost just let me be I just wanna be -_  
  
Dean walked back to the car, got in, started it. He leaned back, brushing off the daze.  
Sam was still silent, but at least he wasn’t shaking. Dean watched him. Waiting.

“You are. A jerk.” Sam said, eventually.   
“Why, what was that for? Not like we haven’t done it before.” Argued Dean, lightening up a bit.  
“Not in public we didn’t!” Seethed at him Sam and turned to the window, blushing in deep red, avoiding the subject. Dean smiled and bit his lower, puffy lip.  
“Anyway, here, grab some water, you are radiating heat.” He joked, and tossed a bottle from under the seat into Sam’s lap.  
Sam didn’t say a thing, but caught it and uncapped it, drinking half of it all at once.  
“Oh, and by the way,” added Dean mischievously, hitting the gas, “there is like, an eighty percent chance that that Alice chick got a real wet hard-on cause of us.”

Sam choked on his water.

**Author's Note:**

> I think Dean gets small highs out of successfully pranking people, be it Sam or others. But that's just me.  
> Also, as I see it, for Dean to reconcile the idea of "Sam is MINE" with "Sam got rejected I'm MAD" is totally plausible - because Sam is "his", ergo - what Sam wants - Dean wants for him too. By this logic, Dean would be all about getting his brother laid with a hot chick, on one hand, and will be fooling around with him all the same on the other. No contradiction.


End file.
